


Inconclusive

by glim



Series: white city [6]
Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was another moment where Gwen thought, probably, this wasn't what the writing center had in mind when they gave her this office and made her assistant director.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inconclusive

"Well, your hypothesis is quite good, though I think it gets buried beneath some of the other minor points you make in the paper." Gwen glanced down at the essay on her desk, flipped to the next to last page, and reread the comment she'd scrawled there. "A conclusion might help?"

"I haven't finished the paper yet. Of course it doesn't have a conclusion."

"Right. Yes, but—"

"And, besides, that was one of the things I said I needed help with on my intake form. The conclusion."

Gwen stared down at the mostly finished paper again to hide her frown. Thank god this was her last appointment for the day. She'd come in early to deal with the mess that had been made of the writing center appointment schedule thanks to the new work study never having been trained to handle that responsibility, taught her section of freshman English, met her advisor for a lunch meeting that, unfortunately, included a lot more meeting than lunch, and at last came back to the writing center to find that all her appointment times were taken.

Of course they were. Really. Why would she have any free time today? Why not end the week on the most hectic note possible?

Not that she was complaining. Not really. Well, maybe a bit, Gwen decided, bit her lip, and glanced up from the paper that suspiciously lacked both a solid thesis and conclusion.

"Okay. Right. Maybe read through the paper, find where you state the thesis most clearly, and see how you trace that through the following sections?"

Gwen got an intelligent nod in reply to that suggestion. Better than the pleas for help she got from a few students who came to the writing center expecting her to write the paper for them or the apathy she got from a few others.

"And, um, I think, maybe? It might be a good idea to leave the part out about Samuel Johnson being…" Here Gwen turned back to the middle of the paper for the sentence she'd circled. "Being 'a great stodgy bastard whose wife was probably delighted he spent more time writing his _Dictionary_ than with her.'"

"It's true! It's completely true. I know it."

Gwen's moment of hesitation was long enough for her tutee to snatch back the paper with a sound that was much too close to triumph.

"I'll put it in a footnote. Proper MLA style, no less. At least in the final draft I bring to show you. And, oh, look at that. Five o'clock."

"Which means—"

"—business time."

"I am never, ever letting you watch anything on television again. I don't care how nicely you ask."

Dressed in a pair of flare jeans, black tank top, and black Doc Martens, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her glasses pushed up atop her head, Morgana glanced over her shoulder at Gwen. She'd gotten up to close the door to Gwen's office in the writing center and close the blinds on the tiny window; when she came back, she settled herself in Gwen's lap instead of in the chair by Gwen's desk.

"That's a lie. A complete and utter lie. You never watch _Bones_ by yourself." Morgana put her glasses on Gwen's desk and slipped both her arms around Gwen's neck.

"So. You're saying I've lapsed into television watching dependency?"

"_Co_-dependency. You don't see me having movie night on my own, do you?"

"And that makes it all right?"

Morgana kissed the corner of Gwen's mouth and licked delicately with the tip of her tongue. "Mm… recognized and acknowledged television codependency. Perfectly acceptable."

Gwen couldn't disagree. Really, she couldn't not with Morgana still licking at her mouth and making these impossible, wonderful sounds at the back of her throat. It was… actually, it was perfectly writing center unacceptable, but Gwen couldn't find it in her to care about that, either. Not after the day of ridiculous stress and almost comedic disaster she'd had; not after Morgana had signed up for her last two writing center time blocks and brought in the only seminar paper she'd done any work on so Gwen wouldn't have to see yet another student paper.

Instead, Gwen found herself tucking one hand up under Morgana's tank top, splaying her fingers over soft skin that she knew smelled faintly of lavender and expensive dusting powder, and sliding the other hand down the back of Morgana's jeans.

Down, and down, to meet… Oh. More bare skin.

Morgana made a deeper, more pleased sound and nuzzled against Gwen. "Thought I'd make things a little easier. You're wearing an incredibly accessible skirt, after all."

It took Gwen about five more seconds to realize that, yes, Morgana really was wearing only a tank top and pair of jeans. And about one more after that for the slow, coiling heat at the base of her stomach to burst into a warm thrum beneath her skin, insistent and building with each kiss, each shared breath that brushed against both her and Morgana's lips.

They had to be quiet. Quiet enough that nobody would know how Morgana's breath caught so sharp in her throat when Gwen bit at her bottom lip; quiet enough that the classes going on this evening wouldn't realize that Morgana knew how to make Gwen sigh, breathless and already so full of want, by nuzzling against her ear.

Quiet enough that nobody would know how Gwen kissed Morgana, wet and hot and not at all careful, her tongue sliding over Morgana's to find all the secret places inside. She tasted of the strong, black tea she'd been drinking throughout their meeting and of all the inimitable, subtle things that spelled love, sex, comfort, need and desire across Gwen's senses. She tugged Morgana closer, kissed her messy-like, lips and tongue, and licked a warm path down the side of her neck.

Still working her way down Morgana's neck and over her collarbones and the swell of her breasts, Gwen slid one hand up to cup one breast. That always pulled a soft sound from Morgana, one that came from somewhere deep inside her and gusted out in a sigh that hitched halfway into another gasp. Gwen palmed her gently at first, barely rubbing against the soft material of her top, loving the feel of skin against her lips and skin-warmed clothing against her hand.

Morgana arched into the touch, one hand tight on Gwen's shoulder, and urged Gwen to keep touching her, to stroke and circle her nipple until it grew taut. Her skin flushed pink down to her breasts, and Gwen leaned in to lick her tongue along the strap of her top. The lavender-sweet scent of her skin kept Gwen's face pressed to her shoulder and Morgana almost cried out at the nip of Gwen's teeth.

This was wrong. Wrong, and inappropriate, and deliciously improper. The walls were too thin, the chair too small and uncomfortable, and, more importantly, Gwen didn't do these sorts of things. She just… yeah. She didn't. And that thought that she was doing them sent such heat through her body, urgent damp heat between her thighs and jagged needy heat to her fingertips.

They were kissing again before Gwen knew that her mouth had wandered back to Morgana's; kissing, and muffling words and gasps against each other's mouths, fingers tracing urgent paths over shoulders and breasts.

Eyes wide and dark with desire, Morgana pulled away from Gwen. The flush still colored her skin and Gwen knew, from all the nights and mornings and middle of the afternoons when she's had Morgana stretched out on her bed, that it extended past the edge of her tank top. She kissed Gwen once more on the lips, on the chin and at the corner of her jaw, before sliding off Gwen's lap with easy grace.

There was another moment where Gwen thought, probably, this wasn't what the writing center had in mind when they gave her this office and made her assistant director.

Only a moment, though, because Morgana's hands were pushing firm and insistent, pulling her forward in her seat, until she was at the very edge. Gwen laughed, under her breath, to see Morgana kneeling in front of her and let her legs fall open to allow Morgana room to settle between them.

Her fingers slipped under the hem of Gwen's floaty flowery brown skirt and stroked up her thighs, the touch light until it reached the edge of her underwear.

"I love these on you… the purple ones?"

Gwen nodded. Soft, slippery, silky, purple, expensive, bikini, Morgana's. She loved wearing them, loved the look in Morgana's eyes when she noticed what Gwen had on, and loved, loved, the feel of Morgana fingering her through the delicate, already damp, silk.

She was really only stroking, almost petting Gwen, her thumb moving over wetness and warm arousal. But Morgana's touch was firm and drew Gwen closer and closer to the edge of the seat until she could hook her fingers into the waist of the bikinis and slide them off Gwen. Her hands slid back up Gwen to settle at the top of her thighs, palms curving to fit right against them, and Morgana ducked her head under Gwen's skirt.

Sweat prickled at the base of Gwen's spine and she drew in as measured a breath as she could manage. God. Oh god. The desire that had coiled slow and heavy inside her earlier was a dizzying spiral now. She could stay quiet, that Gwen could do, though just barely, but she couldn't keep herself from yearning towards Morgana.

Who kissed Gwen gently a few times, at the crease of her thigh, before she nuzzled in closer, still kissing, then licking, then curling her tongue inside Gwen. It was fantastic, skin-tinglingly wonderfully fantastic, how Morgana wasn't making any effort to tease Gwen this time, and instead went right for all the little spaces and touches that brought Gwen off fastest.

Heat diffused through Gwen and her heart had that wild, desperate pounding to it that meant she was close to coming. So close to the curving edge of desire where the world tipped into a haze of satisfaction that Gwen could taste it at the back of her mouth and feel it at the tips of her toes. She arched off the desk chair with a tiny sound and Morgana pressed the flat of her tongue against Gwen. They were both still, suspended, waiting for one moment to fall into another, and Gwen gripped the edge of the chair with one hand as if she could keep them in that space forever, always anticipating and never quite reaching that final moment.

It only took a tiny movement from Morgana, the brush of her tongue against the side of that sensitive place inside Gwen, the flutter of her lips against her clit, for Gwen to come with a shudder. She felt that at the back of her throat and the tips of her fingers and toes, too, a shuddering that reached past her senses at the same time it echoed over them.

Climax was still shivering over Gwen when Morgana pulled away, then moved in close again to rest her head against Gwen's leg. Her hair was rumpled, a complete, adorable mess, and her lips were wet and pink. She smiled at the touch of Gwen's hand on her head and turned to kiss Gwen through her skirt.

"I think that tutoring session went well. I can't wait to see your comments on my form."

Gwen mumbled in assent, and, upon realizing what Morgana said, stroked her hair with sated slow fingers. "But, you. I wanted to take advantage of your…. you're not even wearing a bra."

"Oh, baby, I didn't say we were finished. I know how you like taking your work home with you."

"Mm." Gwen brushed a tendril of hair off Morgana's face and rested her fingertips against Morgana's cheek. "I think we might need to continue this outside the office."


End file.
